"So this is one of the last paintings Van Gogh ever painted." The curator of the Musée d'Orsay's Van Gogh exhibit, Doctor Henry Black, exposited, standing in front of Vincent Van Gogh's Wheatfield with Crows. "Those final months of his life were probably the most astonishing artistic outpouring in history. It was like… Shakespeare, knocking off Othello, Macbeth, and King Lear all in the span of the summer hols."

Behind the man, and the group he was currently expositing to, the Doctor and El walked, the girl's hand in the Time Lord's, as she carried a pamphlet, looking around at the art.

"And especially astonishing because Van Gogh did it with no hope of praise or reward…"

El looked around curiously. "Drawings…"

"Ah, not just drawings, paintings." The Doctor replied, gesturing around. "The paintings of Vincent Van Gogh. That's him over there." He pointed to the self portrait hanging on one of the walls.

El tilted her head. She didn't think adults drew… In fact, art like the stuff she was surrounded by now was… like nothing she'd ever seen. Past the simple stick figures and lines she had drawn once in the lab, more… realistic, but with an odd sort of… discordance about them. Not an ugly sort of discordance, but something… haphazard, coming together to create something beautiful.

The girl looked up to the Time Lord. "Why'd you bring me here?"

"Well, it's part of your history." The Doctor replied. "Human history. Well, actually, we've got normal history and science stuff covered in our travels, I'm teaching you English and how to use your powers on board the TARDIS, so I thought it'd be a good idea to round out your education with art and music. After we're done here, we're going to go to the Proms. I was at the very first Proms, actually, I played the tuba…"

"Each of these pictures now is worth tens of millions of pounds," Dr. Black continued, "Yet in his lifetime he was a commercial disaster. He only ever sold one painting, and that to a sister of a friend. We have here possibly the greatest artist of all time, but when he died, you could've sold his entire body of work, and only had enough money to buy a sofa… and a couple of chairs." He pointed to another place. "If you'll follow me now…" He led his tour group to the other side of the room.

"It's the Doctor!" A child across the room suddenly recognized, the Time Lord whipping around to look, as El curiously examined the paintings.

"Oh." The Doctor chuckled to himself, at the two children looking at Portrait of Doctor Gachet.

El wandered curiously over to one of the paintings, the only one without people standing directly in front of it, as the Doctor moved to rejoin her.

"Look at that…" The Time Lord gestured, close enough to the painting to touch it. "It's like you can see him painting it right in front of you. Carving the colors into shapes…" The Doctor examined every square centimeter of the canvas, his eyes stopping upon reaching one of the church's windows. "Wait a minute…"

"What?" El asked.

"Look." The Doctor pointed to the window in question, making sure to not actually touch the painting. "Something very not good indeed." He rubbed the back of his head. "Remember rule one of monster hunting?"

The girl nodded. "Look for the thing that doesn't belong."

"Right." The Doctor agreed. "So, what doesn't belong in this picture?"

The girl's eyes narrowed as she followed the Doctor's hand. There, in the window of the church, was a bird-like head with its enormous beak parted in a scream.

El looked around at the other paintings. Everything else seemed perfectly ordinary, no monsters. "Face." She pointed out.

"Right… and not a nice face at all." The Doctor swallowed.

El looked to him, "How can you know?"

"I've seen evil." The Doctor replied. "And that… is an evil face."

The Time Lord spun on his heel, walking over to the tour group. "Excuse me." He apologized, grabbing Dr. Black's attention. "Terribly, terribly sorry for interrupting, but my little girl was curious and we can't seem to find it anywhere; When was that one painted?"

"Well," Black blinked. "What an interesting question. Most people-"

"Terribly sorry again, but she has something she wants to do after this, and you know how kids are, bouncing all over the place." The Doctor cut him off. "Just tell me exactly as you can, without a big speech, you know how kids can get when they're impatient."

"Yes, I understand…" Black thought about it for a moment. "Some time in between June 1st and June 3rd, 1890. Only about a month before he… killed himself."

"Thank you, sir." The Doctor nodded gratefully. "Very helpful indeed… Nice bow tie." He giggled, turning to El. "Bow ties are cool."

"Yes, yours is very…" Black pointed.

"Oh, thank you." He straightened the accessory. "Keep telling them stuff, thanks again!" The Doctor offered Black, before grabbing El's hand, pulling her along.

"But, the pictures…" El looked around.

"Don't worry, we can always come back." The Doctor replied. "But this is a matter of life and death. We need to talk to Vincent Van Gogh."


The wheezing scraping noise of the TARDIS broke the silence of a darkened alleyway, sending a cat scurrying away in fear as the ship solidified.

"Right, so, here's the plan:" The Doctor began, he and El hopping out, looking in both directions, before walking to the right. "We find Vincent, he leads us straight to the church, and we can deal with the nasty fiend there."

"Sounds easy." El commented.

"Well, no." The Doctor replied. "Vincent Van Gogh was a very complex, very… disturbed man. I don't suspect it'll be easy when it comes to him. Right, he'll probably be in the local café, a sort of orangey place with tables outside."

El looked down to the book she'd picked up from the museum and flipped through it. "Like this?"

The Doctor peered over her shoulder. "Yep, that's it."

El pointed down the way, to an outer patio just like the one in the painting.

"Oh, cleverly spotted." The Doctor complimented, beginning the approach. "Good evening," He said to the waiter standing outside. "Does the name Vincent Van Gogh ring a bell?"

The man scowled, shaking his head. "Oh, don't mention that name to me." He growled, before going into the café.

"Excuse me…" The Doctor apologized, blinking, before he turned to one of the waitresses cleaning a table. "Do you know Vincent Van Gogh?"

The woman huffed. "Unfortunately."

"Unfortunately?" El repeated. She heard Dr. Black say the man wasn't successful in life, but this active dislike…

"He's drunk, he's mad, and he never pays his bills." The woman elaborated.

The Doctor blinked. "Good painter though, eh?"

The waitress and one of her colleagues broke into uproarious laughter.

The Doctor sighed with a scowl, sitting down, motioning El to follow.

"Come on, come on!" A man inside the café begged as he was thrown out. "One painting for one drink! That's not a bad deal!"

The Doctor turned to El with a giddy smile, knowing exactly who the voice's owner was.

"It wouldn't be a bad deal," The waiter retorted, pushing a redheaded man with a scraggly beard out, holding the painting. "If this painting were any good! I can't hang that up on my walls, it'd scare the customers half to death! It's bad enough having you here in person, the last thing we need is this ugly thing looming over the place!" He shoved the painting to the man's chest. "You pay money, or you get out!"

The Doctor grinned at El, shaking his head, before he looked in that direction. "I'll pay, if you like."

The waiter turned to the Doctor incredulously, Vincent Van Gogh turning around to stare in disbelief as well. "What?"

"I'll pay for the drink," The Doctor shrugged. "Or, I'll pay for the painting, and he can use the money to pay for his drink."

Van Gogh looked at the Time Lord with narrowed eyes. "Who exactly are you?"

"Well, I'm new in town." The Doctor replied.

"Well, in that case, you don't know three things." Vincent began.

"Go on." The Doctor prompted.

"One, I pay for my own drinks."

"Ha!" The waiter scoffed.

"Two, no one ever buys any of my paintings or they would be laughed out of town, so if you want to stay in town, I suggest you keep your money to yourself. And three, you should keep your nose out of other people's business." Vincent turned to the waiter. "Come on, just one more drink, I'll pay tomorrow!"

"No." The waiter shot down.

"Or, on the slightly more compassionate hand, yes." Vincent replied.

"Or, on the other hand, to protect my business from madmen, no!"

"Or-"

"Shut up." El commanded, "Both of you." She reached into the Doctor's pocket against the Time Lord's squirming, pulling out a wallet, before slamming a stack of francs down on the table. "You," She looked at the waiter. "Bring me…" She looked to the Doctor.

"Wine." The Doctor finished, a bit put off.

"Wine." El said. "I'll share it with who I want."

"…very well." The waiter took the stack of money, going inside to procure the bottle.

"I don't-" Vincent began.

"You," El stared at him, "Sit."

The artist immediately did as he was told.

"Blimey, El." The Doctor looked to her. "Where in blazes did you learn to do that?"

"You're the oncoming storm." El replied. "I am the… oncoming… cloudy… day?"


"Who are you two?" Vincent asked as he sat down his glass, looking between the two time travelers.

"Well, I'm the Doctor-" The Time Lord held his hand out.

"Oh," Vincent pulled back, looking disgusted. "I knew it."

The Doctor's hand dropped. "Sorry?"

"My brother's always sending doctors." Vincent shook his head, downing another glass. "But you won't be able to help."

"Not that kind of Doctor." The Time Lord replied, "But look at that!" The Doctor pointed to the self-portrait. "El, that's brilliant, don't you think?"

The girl tilted her head. "Pretty."

"Ha." Vincent let out a laugh, as he looked at the canvas. "You need to get your eyes checked, child. I know it's horrible. …but it's the best I could do." He shook his head and dropped the painting, turning back to his glass.

"You tried." El said. "Trying's what matters…" At least, that was what she told herself when she couldn't do something, either with her powers or otherwise. She tilted her head. "Your hair's red." She noted. She and the Doctor had been to a lot of places, but she hadn't seen someone with red hair before.

"Yes, it used to be more red, but…" Vincent gestured. "Age does that. Hm." He threw back the glass. "Not met many children willing to speak their mind to strangers."

"She's not a normal child." The Doctor smiled proudly. "So, Vincent, think about painting any churches recently? Any church-y plans? Aren't churches, chapels, religious-y stuff like that, something you'd like to get into very soon?"

"Well…" Vincent considered, running a finger along the rim of his wine glass. "There was a church I planned on painting. When the weather is right."

"Brilliant," The Doctor threw an arm around El, looking at her. "That's brilliant, don't you think that's brilliant?"

Someone screamed, an older woman running into the café. "Help me!" She hysterically cried.

"That, on the other hand," The Doctor pointed, shooting to his feet. "Not so brilliant. Come along, El!" He took the girl's hand, as Vincent quickly finished the rest of his mind, running to join.

The trio sprinted out of the café, down the street towards the alley, towards the crowd.

"She's been ripped to shreds!" A man hollered, standing over a corpse in the alley.

"Move, move, I'm a Doctor!" The Time Lord shouted, running over.

El covered her mouth, looking away, as it looked like the woman had been ripped open, exposing her insides to the air.

"Move away, you vultures!" A woman screeched. "That's my daughter!" The woman fell to her knees by the corpse. "Giselle… Get away from her!" She suddenly bellowed, grabbing a stone. "Get that madman out of here!" She snarled, hurling the stone at Vincent, as the crowd followed suit.

It was all El could do not to retaliate directly, but she did use her powers to send the stones off-course just slightly, preventing the three of them from getting hit, while some of the throwers got hit from their own crossfire.

The Doctor huffed, hunching over, looking to Vincent. "You all right?"

"Yes," The Dutch painter sighed. "I'm used to it."

"Has anything like this murder happened here before?" The Doctor inquired.

"Only a week ago." Vincent replied. "It's a terrible time."

"As I thought, as I thought." The Doctor replied. "Come on, let's get you home."

"Where are you staying tonight?" Vincent inquired.

"Oh!" The Doctor patted the man on his shoulder. "Thank you, you're too kind!"

El chuckled as she followed the Doctor.


"Dark night. Very starry." The Doctor remarked as Vincent led the two to his residence.

"It's not much." Vincent stated as he led them up to the building. "But you should be okay for one night. Just one."

'We're going to stay with him?' El sent to the Doctor.

'Just until he paints that church.'

"Watch out." Vincent pointed to a hanging canvas as he opened the front door. "That one's wet."

El looked to it curiously, the painting depicting Vincent's bedroom. "Hm."


"Sorry about all the clutter." Vincent apologized, lighting a lamp, as El and the Doctor looked curiously around the room.

"Some clutter." The Doctor sarcastically remarked in response.

"Well, I've come to accept the only one who's going to love my paintings is me." Vincent replied. "Coffee?"

"Not for me, thanks." The Doctor replied, poking around the corner to the kitchen. The Time Lord stiffened, upon seeing the coffee pot on the canvas. "You know, you really should be careful with these. They're…" He watched, mortified, as Vincent wiped a ring of liquid off the surface. "Precious."

"Precious to me, maybe." Vincent huffed. "But not to anyone else. I've come to accept that."

"They're pretty." El honestly stated, poking one.

"Your kindness is most welcome." Vincent replied. "But you don't need to lie."

The Doctor shook his head. "Right, so, church then. Is it near here?"

Vincent looked to the Doctor curiously. "What is it with you and the church?"

"Oh, casual interest." The Doctor answered.

Vincent snorted as he grabbed two pieces of firewood, throwing them onto a fire. "Far from casual. Seems you never talk about anything else."

"Well, if you must know," The Doctor replied, "I get these hyper fixations."

Vincent looked up. "What?"

"I tend to throw all my focus to one subject." The Doctor explained.

"That doesn't sound like a real thing." Vincent shook his head.

"He's telling the truth." El spoke up. "Last week he only read and talked about Sherlock Holmes, now it's churches."

"Ah…" Vincent blinked. "He is a weird one isn't he?"

"Yes, well, enough about me." The Doctor patted Vincent on the back. "What about you? What takes your fancy?"

"Well, look around." Vincent gestured. "Art. It seems to me, there's so much more to the world than the average eye is allowed to see. I believe, if you look hard, there are more wonders in this universe… than you could have ever have dreamed of."

The Doctor smiled knowingly, looking to El. "You don't have to tell us."